


All The Things We Cannot Say, All the Things We Cannot Do

by NebulaGazer (IsurvivedReichenbach221B)



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cowgirl Position, French Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Orgasm, Non-Canon Relationship, Orgasm, Penetrative Sex, Season 2 Episode 3, butcher pov, canon compliant swearing, handjob, hughie bottoms, it's mostly just those two but the other characters make appearances, light fingering, lots of swearing, mostly - Freeform, non established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsurvivedReichenbach221B/pseuds/NebulaGazer
Summary: Covered in Lucy's (the whale) blood and guts, the boys take to the sewers. What occurs there is canon-compliant save my descriptions and writing. What happens after, down in the basement, when everyone is clean and Butcher cannot sleep is a whole new story. He can't get it out of his head what almost happened to Hughie. It seems Hughie is having some deep thinking and realizations, too.
Relationships: Billy Butcher & Hughie Campbell, Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 9
Kudos: 159





	All The Things We Cannot Say, All the Things We Cannot Do

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not beta'd. I wrote this at 4 am don't judge me... but give feedback if I royally f*ked something up.
> 
> I do not own the right to The Boys or any of the characters.
> 
> RIP Lucy

A flash of light filled the sewer and everyone stopped. It had come from behind them and each in the group turned to see. Almost as if he had known, Butcher wasn’t the least bit surprised Hughie wasn’t in the group. A dark feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he scowled deep. Pushing past everyone slowly, he headed back down the way they had come.

“I’d like you to do something for me, okay?…” Homelanders’ voice filled the area. Why would he need to be quiet? Nothing known to man could kill that cunt. “Kill him.”

Just at that moment, Butcher slowly rounded the corner and stopped just out of sight. Son of a whore, how had he known what he would find? Hughie was on his back staring up at Starfire, Homelander running the show.

As Starfire started to stutter and attempt to make up an excuse not to follow a direct order from Homelander himself, Butcher considered exit strategies. While they were busy with Hughie, they could slip away. They couldn’t pretend anymore how close the Supe’s were and they needed to fuck off as safely as possible.

“He’s wanted. Shouldn’t we take him to the police?” Her voice was full of apprehension but Butcher knew. Not a single one of those cunts could be trusted.

“Yes, he is. Yes, we should. Kill him.” It wasn’t his fuckin’ business. It wasn’t his problem.The violent stench of whale insides had made Butcher’s usual pissy attitude all that much worse. He was not, for any reason, going to intervene. It wasn’t his fuckin’ fault the shit lagged behind. “Kill him, right now.”

Butcher turned, assessing his group. MM stood there, judgment in his eyes. This was not something Butcher wanted to deal with at this exact moment. Hughie had done this fuckin’ shit to himself, hadn’t he? Tickled his fingers in Starlight's undies and didn’t keep up while they were trying to escape with their lives. MM had told him Hughie wouldn’t make it.

“Chicks, right, Hughie? Oh, for God’s sakes. Cone on, it’s easy.” Butcher didn’t need this. It wasn’t his fuckin’ problem!

“Hughie’s not gonna make it. And you need that kid more than any one of us.” Sure, it had been about Hughie being a canary bird but right then, Butcher saw it as something else. On the boat, he’d apologized. Bloody fuckin’ apologized and been punched over it! Hughie could get fucked.

“Hands in the air, like you just don’t care. Kill. Do it.” There was silence and Butcher knew it was the end. He should shoo MM and the others away, get them to leave. He needed to go through them as he did before and lead them back down the same tunnel and find an escape. “More incentive? Okay.” Maybe Hughie had been right and his girlfriend would take him in her arms and they’d fly away. Butcher leaned towards the wall of the sewer and looked back, watching. He needed to leave. “You kill him or I’ll fucking kill you both.”

Never trust a Supe.

Light filled the tunnel.

It was not his bloody. Fuckin’. Problem!

“Oi. Cunt.” The words shot from him before he could think, drawing attention his way.

“William.” All eyes turned to him and Butcher stepped into view angry, irritated, running on fumes and whale blood. “Hey. You know I had a great breakfast with your wife this morning.” Hughie looked up at Butcher. There was something in his eyes, something unbelieving. Astounded. Butcher knew Hughie had expected to be left to die. It was what Butcher did. Cut ties when his own plans were on the line. “Pancakes.”

They made eye contact and Butcher stopped questioning what he was doing.

“Mmm. Delicious.” Homelander did his annoying, obnoxious head bob as he teased Butcher. In response, he cocked a grin.

“Yeah?” His people had his back, MM one of the best. “Eat this, motherfucker.” The Supe strode past him and Butcher shifted out of the way, watching. He hated Supes, no doubt about it, but he couldn’t help feeling more grateful than he had in an extremely long time to have one right this moment.

The ground cracked, shattered, and started to give way. Hughie crunched up tighter against the wall and Starlight shifted back with him. Out of the ceiling came a bus and at least one ton of concrete. It struck Homelander and took him down as the entire section fell under its own weight and the Supes power. Arms wrapped around Hughie’s head for protection which, much to Butcher’s surprise, created an ache in his chest. Before anyone could get him back under control, though, the Supe and his sister made their nearly-predictable escape. While Frenchie and MM were occupied, Butcher curved around the destruction to the only thing that mattered right then.

“Come on, Hughie.” Starlight could kiss his fuckin’ arse. “Before that cunt gets out.” Hughie’s hands lowered, eyes looking up. Shell-shock if Butcher had ever seen it. Lowering his hand down, he offered it to the other. The memory of Hughie attacking him earlier, punching him after Butcher had apologized, came to his mind. There was nothing that Butcher could do if Hughie chose to stay here.

When Hughie reached up and clasped hands, Butcher felt relief pour into him. They stared at each other and Butcher became hyper-aware of the others looking. Watching. MM knew--as Frenchie probably did, too--that this kind of life wasn’t easy. Hughie had nothing to prepare him for this fucked up way. It was a surprise he’d managed it this long, this far. Right this moment, there was nothing else to do, though.

~

Disaster had struck as they climbed free of the sewers. The two sibling Supes had battled one of The Seven. Destruction had reigned and one of them was dead. While Butcher didn’t necessarily feel anything for the cunt, he thought it best not to say anything. Beaten, bloody, and smelling like rotten tuna, the boys found themselves back in the basement.

Butcher didn’t know who turned the TV on first but it was on before anyone got clean. They piled on or by the couch, watching. Edgar made a statement about Terrorists. It was all a crock of choads. He wouldn’t sit with them to listen to it. Refused to. The sound faded out as he took off his coat and went to open up the paper. His wife's address was on it, the description of the house. That was his entire end goal. Why he did literally anything, ever. So why had he risked everything for Hughie? MM could have stared him into the afterlife but even MM wasn’t more important than his wife. When the light had come, when that cunt Starfire was seconds away from snuffing the life out of him for forever, Butcher had forgotten anything else.

The paper fit snuggled into the box. He pictured his wife in his mind's eye but looked over to the couch. Along with everyone else Hughie watched Edgar rile up the citizens with lies over terrorists and American soil. The sound that left him was quiet, angry, and tired. He moved to the couch and perched on the arm beside Hughie. Now they were praising Stormfront. It didn’t matter.

Out of the corner of Butcher's eye he saw movement. Hughie was looking up at him. What was that look? That expression? In the sewer, Butcher had known it as a wild mix of disbelief, relief, and joy. Here, there was fear. Uncertainty. Did it have anything to do with the TV? If so, why was he looking at him like that? Butcher couldn’t ignore the own furrowing of his brows. He didn’t want to be part of whatever was going on. He didn’t like it. Making what he hoped was an apologetic but reassuring smile, he turned back to the TV.

~

There was plenty that needed to be done and they should be rested. Everyone had a go at the shower and Butcher chose to go last, not taking opinions otherwise. The water was ice when he got there but he didn’t mind. Well, he did, but he deserved it for what he’d nearly tossed into away.

Lying in a largely uncomfortable place that could be considered bed, maybe. Someone was snoring and he tried to determine who it was, wondering if Hughie snored. He hadn’t heard it before but the kid hadn’t spent nearly as much time in his mind as he did lately. No, it was Frenchie. Soft, borderline annoying as a background irritation. At least it wasn’t MM who could wake the dead some nights. What time was it? Middle of the night.

Butcher shifted and sat upright. All over was shadowed, dark. A lamp stayed lit at all times to avoid tripping during piss breaks. No sound came from Hughie’s corner. There was literally no reason to suspect anything but Butcher felt anxiety. Was the kid okay? Part of Butcher suspected that he’d run off, another part imagined those wide eyes staring at the wall, unable to cope with life enough to sleep. Either way, Butcher knew he had to check.

Hughie wasn’t asleep, at least he wasn’t now. Butcher came into his space and leaned down, sitting on the edge of the bed to see and was met with Hughie’s eyes. They were blue but right now, nothing but shadow black and dark greys. Hughie was looking at him and Butcher was thankful that he couldn’t see much of that expression. Was it like the one earlier when the TV was on? When their future was looking doomed beyond repair?

“Can’t sleep?” Going by the voice, Hughie was nowhere near sleeping.

“No more ‘an you.”

Hughie pushed up, the makeshift bed creaking a little as he did so. A snore came through the air loud but still Frenchie’s.

“You came back for me.” No, that was not the conversation Butcher wanted. Could Hughie see the deep, violent scowl on his face? “I… I know that isn’t a thing you do. It’s more than the impression. I was as good as dead.” Butcher shoved up to leave but fingers wrapped around his upper arm, sliding down to lock around a wrist. Butcher paused and looked back. From this angle, he could see a bit more of those features, but not much. Enough to see the strain. Something like pleading, a lot like emotions he didn’t want right now. Or ever. So he turned defensive.

“Didn’t you see, Hughie?” The snap of his tone, even in an attempt of a whisper, was meant to drive his point home. “She was gonna kill ya.” The hand fell from his wrist, pain creasing what part he could see of the kid's face.

“Homelander--”

“She is the one with the powers,” he jabs his finger to the side for emphasis, “and she was gonna kill ya instead of standin’ up to the cunt with powers. Ta save her own bloody ass.”

“Butcher, he was threatening her life. It was me or both of us.”

“Yer nothin’ to her!” He hissed out the words, not wanting to wake everyone up after the day they had. But he was fuckin’ close. “I put my whole fuckin’ life on the line, Hughie. Do you see me shootin’ sparkly shit from my arse? I walked my fancy-fuckin’-mortal cock up to Homelander and--”

The surprise of Hughie’s hand back on his wrist stopped the words short. Butcher fully expected another barrage of punches, maybe some kicking, a lot of verbal abuse. Everyone would come in and MM would have more choice words to say than anyone ought to. What happened was not that, however. The hand pulled and pulled hard. Butcher, without anticipating, allowed it to happen. He bent at the waist and put one foot forward to help steady the sharp shift of his weight. Before he could think, something soft was shoved against his face, his mouth, and suddenly Hughie was all he could smell. Lips caressed his, a nose touching his cheek, his nose, and the hand tickled a distance up his arm.

Mother fuckin’ strawberry loreal shampoo.

Hughie jerked back from the kiss with a flinch and scrambled back in a panic but there was nowhere he could go after about a foot and a half. Butcher, still bent over, tried desperately to understand what had just happened. That had been a kiss, right? Hughie had just dove right for it.

“Listen, Butcher--” Butcher heard the words rattle out of Hughie but he thrust forward and grabbed the kid with both hands. One on an ankle, the other on a thigh. He pulled hard, switching the hand from a thigh to an arm. Hughie wiggled against it, fighting the pull. “I didn’t mean it!” That could have woken up the entire house but thankfully Butcher was close enough at this time to reach forward and wrap his large, strong hand around that mouth. He felt the soft lips and curve of jawbone. There had never been so much fear looking back at him from another human being as there was now.

“B’ch’r--”

“Shut it!” Bringing his face close, Butcher commanded obedience with a hiss. “I’m gonna let my hand off yer mouth nice and easy in just a second but yer gonna do somethin’ for me. Clear?” All he could do was nod against the hand. “Yer not gonna make another damn noise.” Hughie nodded again, hands planted firmly in place on Butcher’s thigh and the wall beside him.

Butcher let go of his face but made no motion to pull much farther away. Hughie’s hard breathing rolled all over the back and palm of his hand only an inch away. The eyes were still scared as they assessed Butcher who stared back, brown eyes pools of black in the dark. He had to give it to the kid, he could follow rules… sometimes.

When their mouths met this time, it was not the most gentle but it was slow. Hughie sat still while Butcher came forward and when he made sure the other wouldn’t pull away, he dove the rest of the way. This time, he could actually taste the shampoo. None of them could eat after what had happened to them. No time to think about that now.

The makeshift bed creaked in irritation as Butcher leaned most of his weight on it when he sat back down and then leaned over Hughie. Holding himself up with hands planted under him, Hughie allowed the stronger, more aggressive male to take the lead. There really was no other choice here. He did, though, raise a hand and touch that beard. Beyond scruffy but nice. Curled in a gorgeous, rustic manner. Butcher didn’t pull away at the hand but the rough kissing slowed down. He allowed Hughie’s curious tongue to taste his lips and then further. Here, too, he took control and dominated after Hughie had tasted enough just to know he could. The inside of Hughie tasted strange but not much different than a woman’s. He leaned even harder until they were lying back on the bed and Butcher was nudging a knee between willing thighs. Suddenly, he stopped.

Hughie’s hands had taken to cautiously touching ribs and even hinting at lifting the shirt but then Butcher pulled away. How cold his mouth was without Hughie attached.

“Come,” the order was barked. Butcher shoved up and pivoted on his heel. It had been a while since he’d walked with a hard-on that wasn’t morning wood. He made it to his place and looked back, partially wondering if Hughie had followed.

He had.

Butcher grabbed him and pulled him close, latching their mouths once more as they sank to the bed. Butcher was on top and pressing himself between legs while Hughie seemed bolder. Fingers and palms rubbed along Butcher’s torso and sides before they rounded to his back and the fingers bunched up his shirt. The article of clothing was flung to the floor. Hughie arched up, Butcher watching, and took off his own shirt. It was attractive to see the meek man bound forward. Once both shirts were off, Hughie did not hesitate to lean forward and kiss a collarbone. His mouth danced along bare flesh and Butcher allowed it. Craved it.

With a groan, Butcher shifted his body and rolled his hips forward. He did it in such a way that Hughie wouldn't have to stop his ministrations but they both got pleasure. Glorious, perfect pleasure.

Saliva would trail over a large portion of both men's shoulders, collar bones, and upper arms. And necks. Hughie thrust one hand down to nudge at the band of their sleep pants while the other held onto Butcher. His mouth worked wonders, feeling the raised pulse against his tongue. Butcher groaned.

They wrestled for a fraction of time in getting pants off, discarded, and then they paused. There was always time to turn back but here was a stepping stone. The kiss was the first and the rest had followed but lying back on Hughie, both naked, would change more than just making out. As the gruff man contemplated if he’d gone too far, Hughie reached up and pulled Butcher down. That decided it.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Butcher produced aloe vera infused lotion. He didn’t want Hughie to ask a damn fuckin’ question but this situation called for it. As the two bodies met naked for the first time, the sensations were wild. Lotion put to the side for now, Butcher focused on how it felt grinding up and down, hearing soft mewls come from Hughie. Feeling nails gently dig into his arms and back. The sound of panting came from both of them and Butcher was blind with lust.

He held out as long as he could but Hughie also decided to keep going. To keep taking steps. He reached between them and took the velvety, thick flesh in his hand. Butcher grunted but didn’t comment. Instead, he ground himself into that palm and craved more. Hughie’s mouth was a perfect place to drown out a needy moan. Gloriously enough it made Hughie moan and tremble in response.

Not his first rodeo, Butcher knew the steps. He worked with Hughie through them as he raised up and gave gentle caresses to encourage the thighs to open nice and wide. He applied lotion to his fingers and looked down. What a strange sight. With his plain hand he grabbed a hold of Hughie and stroked him a few dozen times in a teasingly slow manner. He used this opportunity to put his lotion hand down and found what he wanted. Stroking, he spread the lotion around and then pressed in. Hughie had never done this before and it showed.

“Breathe.” They worked together to get Hughie from one to three fingers. At this point, they were both more than ready. For extra measure, Butcher applied more lotion to himself. A flying thought passed him that it drowned out the loreal smell but that left his head when he bent down and it wafted back up to him.

“Quiet, now,” Butcher encouraged, leading himself to where his fingers had been just moments ago. It was tighter than anything he’d felt. Their bodies shifted together as Hughie focused on relaxing and Butcher struggled between needing to hilt himself and needing to take his time. Eventually, he accomplished both. Once he was settled and flush against Hughie, both men paused and breathed on each other's shoulders. Hughie’s knees were at his sides, arms wrapped around him. Bodies were burning up.

Butcher didn’t start moving until Hughie moved both hands to his butt cheeks and prompted. Neither was used to being with a man but they managed fairly well. The concept was pretty much the exact same. The pace was slow both for Hughie’s benefit and gauging the sounds they would make. At some point, that didn’t matter all that much. Turns out Hughie liked it a bit rough. Butcher thrust in sharp jerks for a bit, relaxed with slow grinds, and then pound into Hughie. Their mouths stayed mostly connected for nearly the sole purpose of drowning out their sounds. The moans and groans, the hisses of pleasure. Hughie expressing himself by trembling out Butcher’s name.

“Ride me?” It was the closest he’d get to asking but Hughie understood. They situated and Hughie found himself on top now, hands planted on Butcher's chest. When he sank back down, impaling himself in a way that felt deeper, he couldn’t help but throw his head back in a silent moan. He felt the pressure, the pleasure, all the way up his spine.

It took a bit but he eventually figured out how to flex and roll his hips to get a nice rhythm. Soon they were back to wildly thrusting against each other. Butcher felt up and Hughie. He grabbed hips and slammed upwards. The bed under them was beyond upset but neither cared. Nothing mattered.

Hughie grabbed Butcher’s hand. The thrusting lessened a bit as he led the hand up and over his collarbone, curving around his throat and then going back down. Butcher willingly went along with it and then, down at his groin, he wrapped his fingers around Hughie who left the hand there to do as it would. And it stroked. And Hughie trembled.

Butcher thrust and stroked, feeling strong things ride him and fingers dig into his flesh. Hughie clung onto his arm with one hand, encouraging the movements.

“S--”

“Shh!”

“Close!” Hughie gave little warning before his cock started to twitch, throb. A few more hard pounds upwards from Butcher and he fell to pieces. White shot from him, splattering over knuckles, that chest, and arm. Head thrown back in wordless cry, Hughie’s entire body spasmed at the muscles. He milked Butcher for all he was worth, nearly tipping him over the edge alone. Needing it, Butcher ground up into those gripping, pulsing muscles. Hughie’s orgasm didn’t last much longer but Butcher chased and chased and then he bit into the fleshy part of his palm to avoid crying out. He throbbed and spilled himself as deep as he could, muscles straining. He distantly heard Hughie groan from overstimulation but he couldn't help it. He pushed up, deeper, and then the pleasure tapered off. He had seen stars along the backdrop of the ceiling and then his eyes had rolled mostly upward. His thumb was sore and probably bruised.

The high stayed there, release tingling through him as Hughie lifted off and then settled beside him with a relieved sigh. The two breathed without words, without Butcher looking over. He could feel those pools of blue staring at him but he didn’t have anything to say. There was no explanation for what he had just done. The aftermath was always the hardest, most awkward. Still, Hughie curled against his side, a hand on his breast. Butcher let off a soft sigh and wrapped his arm around Hughie’s back. He could cuddle. That was fine.

“We don’t have to talk about it. It can just be… whatever.” Hughie ruined the moment, but Butcher was curious, given what had already come from the kid's mouth. “I can leave now, too. Go to my bed. Not sure if you like cuddling… I might sleep.”

“If the cunts judge us for sleepin’ in the same bed they can fuck off.” Maybe that hadn’t been a concern of Hughie’s but now it wouldn’t be. With the comment, though, Hughie did get answers. He was not asked to leave and welcomed to sleep right where he was.

Hughie shifted and brought the wayward blanket back up to cover the two of them. Butcher helped where he could and kissed Hughie on his temple. It felt a bit awkward but he couldn’t take it back.

The sewer tunnel had nearly seen the insides, outsides, and everywhere else of Hughie. She could have taken this from him and he’d never have known.

Butcher lay awake a bit longer after Hughie’s breathing had evened out. Seeing the glow in her eyes had been horrifying, but not for the way Butcher had felt before. Without thinking about it, he tucked Hughie just a bit closer to himself before he, too, dozed off.

In the morning, MM would be upset about not finding Hughie for breakfast but Frenchie would put a long finger to his own lips, shushing the other. He’d motion towards Butcher’s resting area. After a few moments of processing, trying to determine if Frenching was serious or if he even knew the MM was looking for Hughie, MM’s eyes widened.

“At least they got some good sleep,” Frenchie mumbled.


End file.
